


Return Policies and Refunds

by norcumi



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dissociation, Don't copy to another site, F/M, GFY, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers through season 10, Unhealthy Relationships, background abuse, captain ameritex is here for a fixit, not beta read we die like meh, one way time travel, rage attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 04:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: Allison had never meant to pull some Captain America freezerburn bullshit, but thanks to the Covenant, here she is, twenty years later and not looking a day older than when the UNSC sent her family their regrets.The logical thing is to keep away, let the government coverup that they lost POWs and never tried to rescue them (or even really knew they were POWs). But there’s that itch, the endless questions.Curiosity might’ve killed the cat, but satisfaction brought her back. That’s how the saying goes, right? Wouldn’t hurt anything to peek a little, do a bit of digging, find out what her husband and daughter are up to....Right?





	Return Policies and Refunds

**Author's Note:**

> This could not have been accomplished without the delightful assistance, casual typo wrangling, and ever-helpful cheerleading of: draconicPenartastic; Dogmatix; TheAceApples (who also provided some lovely tags and summary assistance); Flamethrower; and all the folks on tumblr who endured and cheered on my weird and sudden obsession. 
> 
> I'm fairly certain that several aspects were influenced by both [Sroloc_Elbisivni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sroloc_Elbisivni/pseuds/Sroloc_Elbisivni/works) (particularly [Universe Collision](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8016793) and its prequel) and [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/pseuds/Hinn_Raven/works) ([Asphodel Meadows](https://archiveofourown.org/series/721323)!!!!) who inadvertently provided research and reading material while writing this.

It didn’t take Tex long to figure out that the worst part about returning from the dead was the paperwork. Sure, on paper she was still the same Allison Church she’d been before going off to war, becoming a POW to the Covenant, tossed into a prison-stasis pod, salvaged from a Covie transport ship, and thawed again. But now she had all new identification numbers, clearances, even a new fucking _birthday_ because the stasis shit actually worked, and it was easier for the system to calculate her age and just subtract that from date of thaw.

The government still sucked. Even death couldn’t change that. 

She even had a shiny new credit card, going to an account full of money from twenty-odd years of backpay for when she was a popsicle. The government never needed to once say the word “coverup,” not with all the new identification and the sheer amount of digits to that new bank account. It’d given even her pause, and Leonard had once claimed she was the most mercenary woman to ever live. 

Leonard was also the only child from an incredibly wealthy family. He’d never once in his life had to fight to make sure there was some scrap of food or shelter. So fuck him too.

That was a usual thought, and not really meant, but it kept circling back to the real elephant in the room. 

Twenty-odd years. It had been _over twenty years_ since she’d been...here. Alive? Active? De-popsicled? Whatever. But the rest of the galaxy – that hadn’t stopped. 

Everyone else was twenty years older. She’d spent a bit of time wondering if Leonard had aged well, gotten all stupid distinguished like his dad had been, or bald instead, was he still a ridiculous skinny drink of water, or had he remarr – 

Nope. That still hurt too much. 

She avoided the thought of Carolina even harder. Her baby girl wasn’t six anymore. Wasn’t the little tornado of energy racing between classes for karate, and little league, and gymnastics, and being determined to be the _best_ at all of them. What had she settled on – if anything? Had she ended up going to school to be a scientific genius like her dad? He’d only gone to the army because they got all the best toys – that sounded like a Carolina thing, but she’d been _six_. 

She was closer to Tex’s age by now. Did she have a kid – or _kids_ – of her own? 

Fuck, was she a grandma? Tex’s brain had bluescreened something fierce at that. Nah, better to consider if Leonard had remarried. She wasn’t sure who else would be crazy enough to hook up with him, but he was rich, smart, cute if you went for the helpless nerd type, and he _really_ dug getting railed. That was a guaranteed catch. 

Shit. She hadn’t missed him this much during any of her tours, and now he wasn’t just millions of miles away, he was decades away. Her Leonard was gone, had been gone for over twenty years, just like his Allison, as far as he was concerned. 

_She_ was the one stuck out of place, out of time. 

Nah, better to move on. 

* * *

Tex tried, she really honestly did. She just couldn’t quite manage some of the little things. She kept her ring on, too used to spinning it around her finger while she was thinking. And her thoughts kept wandering back to Leonard and Carolina. 

She tried burying it in work, but her status was in limbo and boiled down to “don’t get into _too_ much trouble.” She offered to help around an office, nearly died of the boredom, and was politely asked to not come back. She picked up a temp gig as a bouncer, and was bluntly told to never come the fuck back after making sure some fresh assholes stopped hitting on customers, stopped hitting on her, and stopped being conscious for the next few hours. 

Stupid owner’s nibling and friends. 

The UNSC, in its infinite wisdom (and being too damn busy trying to beat the aliens), finally figured out what it wanted to do with her. 

So she got the honorable discharge papers. 

The next day, nursing one of her more incredible hangovers, Tex sat down with a computer and spent an awful long time just staring at the screen. She took her sweet time looking up how to make a secure search as untraceable as possible. Not too much had changed, at least not in principle. 

Then she stared at the keyboard. She probably shouldn’t. At the same time, she wasn’t _really_ ready to make a whole new life yet. She should at least know _something_.

* * *

**15 minutes later**

“Leonard FUCKING _Church_ what the _hell_ have you been doing?!”

* * *

**10 minutes later**

Tex took another swig from a bottle, savoring the alcohol burn. 

So. Leonard hadn’t remarried. Okay.

He’d dicked around with some AI shit – he did love that sort of thing – and then disappeared from public view. Tex might have applied some clearance codes she’d acquired in her stint around the office, and gone poking for more details. 

The Freelancer Project. Sounded...grandiose. Very Leonard. Stationed on a mobile location, the _Mother of Invention_. That was _extremely_ Leonard. Sure, there was an itch at the back of her brain, wondering what kind of necessities her husband thought he needed to address. But winning the war – _everything_ and everyone was focused on winning the war. 

There were some _very _ interesting notes on the file about halted investigations for discrepancies, ranging from inappropriate allocation of vital war materials to fucking _war crimes_, because what the fuck EVEN, Leonard?

There was the very curious angle that someone with power, money, or a vested interest had put the whole investigation on hold because the results were looking too intriguing. Of course, those required higher clearances than she’d boosted, so that was an unpleasant mystery that gnawed at Tex for hours into the night as she considered her options.

* * *

The benefit to being a ghost was that no one could really tell her no. After all, whose life was it gonna screw up if she did some crazy shit? Just hers, and Allison Church died 20 years ago.

So fuck ‘em all.

Tex did consider just calling. Just picking up a phone, sit in front of a video camera, and badger whatever poor secretary Leonard had until her name and face caught the idiot’s attention. But –

She couldn’t manage to be that much of a complete bitch. Sure, she’d been accused of being heartless before, and it wasn’t without cause, but.... No.

Fuckin’ war crimes. Even if that _was_ true, Leonard deserved better. He didn’t need dead women wandering up from 20 years ago. No one did. 

The problem with being a ghost was that she was all on her own. She didn’t even have a rock solid idea how shit worked now, and none of her contacts would still be in the game – honestly, if they were she wouldn’t trust them anyways, and the hassle of ‘What the – Tex – but you haven’t aged a day’ would _not_ be worth it. Ugh, gave her hives just thinking about it. 

No, she needed to go to the root of the problem, nose around, find out what was what herself. All she had to do was find some random fuck-off huge ship in the middle of _space_, and get on it, preferably without attracting attention from the highly classified black ops science project Leonard built, scout around to see what’s what, and get back out. 

No backup, no fancy gear, just her, her very fat bank account, and a decent memory for trivia. 

Should be fun. 

* * *

The single greatest advantage Tex had over some rando that wanted on the _MoI_ was that she spent fuckin’ _y-e-a-r-s_ married to Leonard Church. It took her a few weeks, but she ended up seated in a midrange coffeeshop, baseball cap covering dyed hair and makeup that changed her features enough to not worry so much about recording devices. She sat, drank her overpriced coffee-spresso thing, and kept a close but apparently indifferent eye on her hacker. 

It’d been weirdly difficult to hire somebody that should be good enough for what she wanted, but not so good that no one would notice. The nice bit of cash she was paying him meant he was going to wander through the ‘net, poking old accounts and searches for supposedly innocuous things enough to trigger whatever electronic watchdogs Leonard might have. _Shake a few trees, see what could fall out, but don’t actually make them fall out_, she’d told the guy. She figured the threat to feed him his balls if there was a single missing penny or backdoor she found out later ought to keep him honest. 

That, and the fact that she was hoping Leonard might send someone to investigate who the fuck was poking around with his mother’s maiden name and browsing accounts he hadn’t even thought to have touched when they were younger. Even if he _had_ gotten into them, or finally gotten off his stupid ass and consolidated shit, he probably hadn’t. Tax breaks made for some awesome bad habits she could exploit. 

The investigative team showed up way faster than she expected. She noticed the big guy first, a wall of muscle with a shaved head and lots of interesting scars that set her hindbrain screaming in recognition and challenge as a fellow soldier of some sort. Just the kinda guy she’d normally love to tangle with for a little fun and dominance establishment. He got some froufy specialty thing in a giant mug that he still managed to make look small, before sitting down to people-watch. He occasionally glanced at his phone, took a few notes – almost normal, but there was something too _driven_ about the way he scanned the place. Something too focused and eager for action

Exactly five minutes after the big guy entered (ten bucks said they’d synced watches), a skateboarder ambled his way in. Asian, fuckton of freckles on a babyface, short messy hair partially dyed blond – timing aside, this looked like exactly the kind of place a kid like that would hit up on the regular. Yet he walked up to awkwardly order a coffee like he’d never been in anything more complicated than a truck stop donut place in his life. He was trying pretty hard, but he didn’t fit in.

“So what were you planning for your mook?”

Tex was good. She behaved. She turned at a normal, non-aggressive speed to give the compact woman who’d materialized in the chair next to her a confused look. No stabbings, no aggressive yelling, just a turn, a bit of polite confusion, and an “Excuse you?” that didn’t make it sound like an accusation.

Small chick, impossible to tell anything about the body shape under the baggy brown hoodie, nice undercut, dangerously innocent look. “Your mook. The stooge. Flunkie. Minion. Tech dude. Fall guy.”

The woman wouldn’t be this open about having made Tex if she wasn’t damn sure of herself. _Ok, let’s see how this plays out._ “Freelancer cares about mooks now?”

The lady was _very_ good. Her head tilted in confusion, nothing in her eyes to let on that she had a clue. “Freelancer what?”

Tex smirked and leaned back, crossing her arms. “He’s a hired contractor, one job and we’re done. What do you want?”

The woman did a little tilt the other way. “Mostly to know what you want.”

“Intel on Project Freelancer.”

Her expression was politely skeptical. “Why, you a reporter?”

She snorted at the absurd notion. “God, no. Just a private citizen. A curious one.” 

“Who somehow has clearance to know about PFL in the first place.”

“Yup.”

She nodded slowly, fiddling with something in the pocket of her hoodie. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you were an Insurrectionist looking for a bit of sabotage.”

A flash of revulsion crossed Tex’s face without her meaning to show it. She’d heard there were people who weren’t happy with the status quo – big fuckin’ surprise, someone always was – but she hadn’t looked into it enough to know who had real beef and who was just bitching. All she cared about was the tail end of that. Sabotage a ship the size of _Mother of Invention_? “_Fuck_ no. Do you have any idea how many people that could kill?”

The woman’s face flickered blank for a heartbeat. It was the first thing about the whole interaction that scared Tex. That was the look of someone who _knew_. Possibly someone who’d done calculations to figure out estimated injuries too, not just deaths. Her hands itched for a weapon, but a _lot_ of deadly shit could hide in a hoodie like that. 

Then the woman blinked, and the moment passed. The innocent, maybe a bit too sly smile came back. “Too bad you can’t just deliver a pizza to it or something.”

_Play it cool. Just play it cool and don’t let on that was creepy. _“Shame. That would make my life a whole lot easier.” It was true. Just roll up with several stacks of pizza, insist it was paid for, could she just get a hand with these thanks.

The woman kept studying her for a weird, long moment, then she smirked and pulled her hands out of the hoodie’s pocket. All she held was a pen, though a number of unapproved and deadly uses immediately flitted through Tex’s mind. “How ‘bout we exchange emails instead, and I order a pizza sometime?”

_What_. A part of her brain stalled, trying to figure out what just happened, but the rest of her was willing to follow the appearance of flirtation. They used the woman’s pen to scribble down on some napkins, then she stood with a wink. “Tell your guy to leave, but not too quick. I’ll call you.”

Tex watched her saunter over to a different table, striking up a conversation with some eager young college kids. She could see the skateboarder watching with a raised brow and just a hint of a headshake, like he couldn’t believe his friend had done that. Yup. Definitely working together. 

Also, _what_?

She gave everyone a bit of time before sending an email through a convoluted path to dismiss her mook. Hacker. Whatever. Advised him to leave town for a few days, just to be safe. 

He could afford it now.

She slipped out the door not too long after, when a bit of a rush on the store happened. Lots of people, lots of folks looking to sit down – perfect time to leave. She didn’t think any of the team were following her, but she took an overly long and complicated way back to base. Never knew if there was a spotter – or worse, a sniper. 

It took a few more weeks for things to fall into place, an email from “Connie” telling her to go to a specific freight yard and hide in a particular crate. Sure, could’ve been a cheap and easy way to dump her out at sea or space, but the risk seemed low enough. 

Tex was honestly more concerned with the issue that chewed at her all through the noise of being loaded along with a bunch of other cargo into what sounded like a Pelican, and the long flight to wherever. Connie hadn’t made the reporter crack just for a joke. It sounded like she’d been _hoping_ for that. Member of a top secret military program that had a pending investigation, wanting a reporter to nose around?

Not good.

Somewhere between planet and destination, Tex grudgingly acknowledged that shit had gone from slightly obsessed information gathering to what was feeling like cleaning up yet another of her idiot husband’s messes. 

Over twenty years and he was still pulling this shit. What was _wrong_ with that man? 

* * *

It took what felt like fucking _hours_ for her crate to get settled somewhere. Tex gave a little extra time to make sure the place was empty, then nudged her box open just a hair.

The first thing she saw was some kind of scoreboard, blue and huge along the wall.

_Who the fuck puts a scoreboard on the wall of a cargo area?_ All she could see of the standings was that a “Washington” was at 5, and a “York” at 6, but she couldn’t make out anything else from her tiny viewpoint. 

Ok. Officially weird already. She nudged it open a bit further, enough to see North Dakota and Maine were 4 and 3 in whatever the fuck this was. _Leonard, you need more than 50 employees, and calling them after states because you can’t be assed to remember their names is dumb, even for you_. 

Wait. “Connie” sounded fake, and if they were named after states – well well. She’d never been hit on by the entirety of Connecticut before. That was probably worth some bragging rights– 

_Oh_. Two logical conclusions settled into her brain, rocking her back on her heels. She had to stop for a moment just to _breathe_, shocked at the confused swirl of hurt and anger that she had no right to feel. 

States. If they named their operatives after states, then that meant there would be a Texas running around. Or worse, they kept that name _reserved_, as some kind of fucking _tribute_, and that – that hurt, and it shouldn’t. Had no right to. She was dead. Twenty years, she’d been dead, and they’d moved on, and if not having to hear her name _every day_ helped them with that process she had no _fucking_ right to bitch about it!

Ok. Time for some mental reorganization, because if she thought of herself as Tex after that she might puke. It was ok, and not like the first time she’d had to adjust. Wasn’t like ‘Tex’ was a rare nickname anyways. Hell, there’d been that one temporary squad she and Leonard had worked with once, and she had them all convinced she was “Nevada” for _months_. 

Allison also desperately needed to cling to any thoughts but that other conclusion. There’d be a North and a South Carolina running around. She couldn’t – she couldn’t afford to spend time wondering if they were _her_ Carolina. 

(Oh god, or what if she was aboard as another Dr. Church, helping her dad do whatever the fuck he was doing here, did it fuck with her head hearing operatives addressed as her?) Allison’s brain fuzzed white for awhile, she just sat and had a bit of a panic attack right there in a goddammed _crate_ like some idiot. 

This was a mistake. This had been a _terrible_ mistake. And worse, she’d come too far now. Couldn’t just stop and approach some bored security guard, ‘oh excuse me, I’d like to turn myself in, took a wrong turn delivering pizzas, please help me find an exit and by the way never mention this to _anyone_.’

Ok. Okay, she could do this. 

When she could pretend to be calm again, Allison made sure her ski mask was in place, goggle functions worked, and all her gear was secured. Ready to rock. She wiggled her way out of the crate, looking for movement of any kind.

“Unidentified person in the hold, identify yourself. You have, fifteen seconds, to produce security clearances, or you will be terminated.”

She _almost_ shrieked at the lady’s voice calmly speaking almost in her ear. Then it all registered: mechanical, probably an AI, and prepared to kill. 

_Fuck_. “Ah, geeze, hang on, I–”

“Oh! Agent Texas!” That cut Allison off like a punch to the gut. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you without your tracker. Is this a training exercise?”

That made no sense, but she couldn’t waste time panicking over that. “Of course it is. Uh. Sorry, I should’ve...mentioned that.”

“It’s no problem at all, Agent Texas. Am I able to assist in any way, or is this one of your solo exercises?”

She really, _really_ did not want to know who this AI mistook her for, but at the same time Allison really, really did. Either way, she wasn’t about to turn down assistance, especially not the kind she could probably convince to not spill the beans. “I wouldn’t mind some assistance, but could we possibly keep this...quieter?” The AI was only using one speaker, but that was all that was needed to give her away.

“Of course. What frequency are you using?”

She _meant_ to answer, she really did, but she’d finally seen the whole of the scoreboard. 

Wyoming at number 2. Carolina at 1.

No north or south, just Carolina. So much for that plan of not wondering if it was her Carolina.

The problem was that it couldn’t be a coincidence. Not with as much nostalgia she’d been picking up on.

_God, I hope this isn’t the dumbfuck mistakes leaderboard or something_, she thought, numb and trying to convince herself to just keep moving. She just kept staring. 

“Agent Texas?” The AI had probably been saying other things, but that managed to finally snap Allison back to reality. 

“Yeah? Oh, yeah, right.” 

“Thank you,” the AI said in her earpiece when they sorted that out. “Now how may I assist you?”

Breaking her out of a PTSD fugue state or not, she really needed this Agent business to stop. “Right now, while I’m on this mission, could you not refer to me as Agent Texas?”

“Of course. What would you prefer to be called?”

“Allison will be fine.” She’d already started to move under the presumption that was an easy request, but she stopped when the AI spoke.

“I’m very sorry, but I can’t do that.”

What the _hell_ had she done wrong to get to work with the world’s weirdest AI? “And why not?”

“I’m afraid that name is on my list of proscribed terms.”

That took a bit to sink in. Leonard. Was not letting his pet AI and presumably main assistant. Even _speak_ of Allison. _Oh Leonard._ That was a bit sweet, and a lot sad. 

Well. When all else failed, there was always the military to fall back on. “Corporal will do, I guess. And while we’re at it, is your designation satisfactory, or do you want to be called something else?” 

“I’m just fine with F.I.L.S.S_._, thank you.”

_Phyllis. Ok, at least that one isn’t some weird walk down memory lane_. “Great. So I’m looking for a data terminal that won’t be in use, and I’d prefer to not have to deal with anyone while I research some things. Where would you advise me to go?”

She peeked out the doorway, grateful there was no one in sight. This had already taken _way_ longer than she could really spare, even with a new ally. 

“One of the smaller classrooms would be optimal, I think. Shall I upload a map onto your current HUD?”

There was _no way_ it could be this easy.

* * *

**15 minutes later**

It really was that easy. Phyllis apparently had trackers on most of the people aboard, so Allison had convenient pips on an updating minimap. She kept an ear out anyways, because all she needed was to get comfy and sloppy enough to be surprised by someone who didn’t like being stalked by a ship’s AI. She had to hunker down in corners a few times – a gray pip was careening through the corridors at a decent rate of speed, announced by the rumble of a skateboard zipping past her hiding place; a set of purple pips ambled down the corridor, a man sniping laconic comments that a woman snapped and cursed at, both of them sounding tense. Medical had one tan pip, which meant she kept having to duck low under wide observation windows. 

Those fucking scoreboards were _everywhere_, looming on the walls like Grifball rankings at a sports network during Championship season – except she was pretty sure most of those were added in post nowadays, because no one had that many scoreboards in one place except Leonard _fucking_ Church, what the _hell_? It lent this weird creepy atmosphere, a sense of pressure just from the way they sat and judged everyone and everything on the whole fucking ship.

She was willing to bet good money that there were even screens in the bathrooms, though she didn’t dare check. 

A few folks in basic body armor also wandered by – it looked like tac gear with helmets was the typical uniform. Allison spent some time lurking in a janitor’s closet considering if she wanted to try to snag a set for herself rather than sneaking around, but she discarded the notion as too risky. If she had more luck than was likely, if she managed to find there was nothing awful beyond one ridiculous geek who hadn’t managed to move on or get sufficient grief counseling after 20 years, then she could duck out without leaving evidence that she’d even been there. Sweet talk an AI, and she’d be golden. 

It was a lot of ifs, but it didn’t run the risks of a disguise. Trying to sneak around a locker room where folks wouldn’t be wearing trackers; trying to incapacitate someone _quietly_ but without killing them; even just the ordinary stupidity of today maybe being the day someone called whoever’s-uniform-she-stole on their shit.

At least this way if she was caught ninjaing around she didn’t have to play mindgames about was someone suspicious or weren’t they.

Allison finally made it to what looked like a college classroom set up for a small lecture, if you ignored the massive scoreboard to the left of the screen up front. She locked the door and picked a terminal, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to hack in. 

Apparently it was spelled Filss – Freelancer Integrated Logistics and Security System, which ok, actually made sense – and the AI got her around the login. Apparently ‘Agent Texas’ had impressive clearance to get help like this. 

Not creepy at aaaall.

Digging through shit eventually got her to mission files, and two more layers of security (her birthdate and their anniversary? For god’s sake, Leonard, that was publicly available information! Sure, weirdly sweet that he’d still use that, but dumb. Geniuses had the most ridiculous blind spots. Also, it kept hitting the increasing sensation that things were _off_) and she found a file for an upcoming mission, tagged ‘Sarcophagus.’ Geeze, Leonard, always with the pretentious? Two teams, one running data retrieval, one after...huh.

Guessing the password on _that_ one took longer than she liked, but she finally got the file for the contents of the ‘Sarcophagus.’ 

Allison opened it up, then if her muscles hadn’t locked she would’ve screamed and fuckin’ levitated across the room or punched the _fuck_ out of the terminal.

As it was, she was stuck, not even able to think enough to make herself move, heart and breath thundering in her ears in panicked beats. All she could do was stare at the image, a Cthulhuian mishmash of tentacles and mechanical bits.

She remembered those. The Covies used them around their ships fixing shit, the damned flying jellyfish getting called in anytime something mechanical broke. Things like the rare medical device – or the far more common torture devices.

What the _fuck_ was one of those _things_ doing, alive and – fuck, no. She shook her head. While she could desperately hope that Leonard wanted the fucking thing to kill it with fire, that was unlikely. _So what did you break that badly to need one of THOSE to fix shit? I swear, if this is about breaking that classic iPod again I will kick you in the balls so hard you’re going to spend the rest of _your_ life levitating_. She was almost 100% sure it wasn’t, but she needed something to latch on to, to ground her and try to calm the fuck down after – 

The door beeped from an override code and swished open. “That better not be York in here–” a woman drawled, only to cut herself off and lunge at Allison. 

“Filss close and lock the door!” she subvocalized, only just dodging the woman’s lunge. Bitch was _damn_ fast, but at least the light blue power armor meant she was easy to see. 

A right hook slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. Ok, sort of easy to see. Allison swung around, trying to knock Blue State’s legs out from under her. Blue jumped right over Allison’s legs and tried to land on her, snarling when Allison rolled away from what would be broken ribs at a _far_ best. 

Bitch was _not_ playing around. Allison couldn’t stop a vicious smile, because it was nice to have something straightforward and bloody to deal with, without the insanity and weirdness and shit. 

They tangoed around the room a few times, breaking some shit and cracking the scoreboard enough to make it hiss angry sparks. That _really_ seemed to piss off Blue, who either stopped holding back quite so much or it helped her focus. Either way, it hurt. She ended up with a roundhouse kick that smashed into Allison like a fist of an angry god, splatting her against the scoreboard again (yup. _Definitely_ pissed her off with that). She let herself slump down to the ground with barely a groan, trying to keep still instead of giving in to the impulse for the fetal position. Blue was good. Scary good. Not as brutal as some of the Covies, and after some of the shit between getting taken prisoner and getting tossed into prison stasis, Allison felt like it was a bit of a walk in the park. 

_Maybe I should’ve taken that psych eval more seriously_, she found herself thinking while doing her damndest to play possum. Blue was standing nearby, within arm’s reach, but she was too fast to take without a distraction. 

The opportunity was subtle, and probably only because she thought Allison was unconscious (or at least unconscious enough). She did what most people would with an ever-present AI: she glanced up at the ceiling to address it. “Filss?”

Allison moved, reaching out to grab Blue’s left leg right behind the knee between the armor plates – right where the body glove was thinnest and most prone to poor stitching. The nifty taser function in her gloves crackled to life and through the material of the body suit. The woman convulsed, and the AI answered from speakers in the ceiling: “Yes, Agent Carolina?”

Allison’s brain bluescreened, and the armored woman collapsed. 

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK_. No. It couldn’t possibly be. Though that would explain some of the asskicking. 

She knew what she _should_ do. Copy whatever files she could grab and book for the nearest bird off the ship. Instead, Allison reached out for that light blue helmet. She knew how it’d go in a movie: shaking hands pulling the armor, a gasp and a hand to mouth or heart, muttering shit. Her hands were steady and though she tried to be gentle, there really wasn’t any way to remove someone else’s helmet without something clunking against the ground at least once. No gasps or shit, just her settling back on her haunches, staring while she carefully set the helmet in her lap.

God, that kid had always been easy to pick out in a crowd. Bright red hair, still in a ponytail. Strong face, and while Allison could see both herself and Leonard there, it had filled out to an amazing combination all her own. A few scars, but nothing major. Somehow, she’d managed to never get a fuckton of freckles _or_her dad’s geeky paleness.

Gorgeous, and honestly the kinda chick that Allison would probably have picked a fight within twenty minutes of meeting her ‘cause she was too annoyingly perfect. 

Would’ve been an awesome dustup if they’d had similar gear, too. As it was, she was lucky instead of good. Her kid was amazing and kicked like an entire team of mules. 

Could also pass as her sister. Yeah, it was time to get moving again and stop thinking for a bit. Allison gently set the helmet down next to Carolina and hustled back to the terminal. 

She hadn’t made it there when a man’s voice called out from the hallway, “Knock knock.” Deep voice, British, and projecting towards her. 

_Shit_. Allison glared at the door. Still closed, whoever it was hadn’t been curious enough to actually check up on all the noise, and there were decent odds that he didn’t know every single person on the ship by their voice alone. The math said it was worth the risk. 

“Who’s there?” she called back, voice slipping automatically into a neutral tone she’d earned after making the mistake of getting Leonard a book of knock knock jokes their first Hanukkah together (She’d seen one book of jokes in his locker once. _One_. Not her fault. She hadn’t known he had multiple shelves of those fuckers at home!). 

There was a beat of silence, then the man spoke again – only this time, he wasn’t projecting. “Security, we have an intruder, send backup to classroom B.”

_Shit! How had he known?_ Allison braced for the man kicking down the door, shooting his way in, explosions, whatever – so the helmet impacting at high rates of speed right where Carolina had landed that roundhouse kick caught her flatfooted.

Also hurt like a bitch. Was it normal to be this proud and want to punch someone’s face in at the same time? Was that a typical parenting thing?

Then Carolina tackled her, and the brawl was back on. It was a bit more desperate and a lot more lopsided now – Allison refused to take any of the cheap shots she could’ve at Carolina’s head – and it ended with an explosion at the door, a lot of people hustling into the room, and Carolina tossing her across the room and into the scoreboard again. 

Son of a bitch. Held a grudge like both her parents, too.

“_What_ is goin’ on here?” an achingly familiar voice demanded, cutting through the babble. Allison slowly shoved herself to her feet as space at the doorway cleared. Wall-of-muscles from the coffeeshop stepped back into the hallway, clearly ready, willing, and able to block the escape. The skateboarder stepped left, nasty knife in one hand and skateboard in the other, looking prepared to bludgeon or block with it. Some dude in a medical gown with a bandage over an eye and a pistol in hand cleared back towards wall-of-muscles, and Leonard stalked in, flanked by two blonds – an angry but eager looking woman with dyed tips, and a tall drink of water that looked way too laid back to have that much murder in his eyes. A scrawny black dude trailed after them, looking sorta mildly interested in what was going on, while some guy with a huge and ridiculous mustache closed the path.

Leonard...looked tired. He still looked good, but there were a lot of age lines that shouldn’t have been there. He’d kept the dork glasses and the goatee, though he’d grayed a lot. Thickened up a bit too, and that was somehow the weirdest part. His eyes were still that same piercing green, and he looked distinguished. Pissed as fuck, but distinguished.

God damn, she missed him.

“Who the hell is this?” he demanded. 

“I noticed activity in the room when no one was scheduled to be in here, sir,” Carolina said, brusque and professional.

“Looks like somebody was reading from the restricted section,” the tall blond said. He tapped something on the terminal and looked at Leonard. “That was mission details dated for next week.” He held up his hands. “I got that far and closed it.”

Leonard had thunder on his face and fury in his eyes when he turned back to Allison. She remembered that expression. It wasn’t the fun ‘sorta angry but easy to wind up until he screeches and it’ll make for great make up sex later’ look, this was a genuinely furious Leonard Church, the kind who made grudges for life and knew how to be _mean_. Also hot, but not nearly the same way. “Who are you workin’ for?” he growled, accent thick and appearing ready to try to beat her up himself.

Allison felt tired and heartsick, and she just wanted this mess to be over. “No one,” she said. “Just me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Carolina’s expression stiffen with a flash of rage a lot like her father’s. Leonard meanwhile blanched, though he tried to cover it. “Agent Texas?”

Ok seriously, what was _with_ that shit?

“Nope,” a woman’s voice drawled from the hallway. Everyone half turned, and folks cleared a path absurdly quick for a woman in black power armor to stroll in. “Looks like I missed all the fun.”

It was like listening to a recording, or a remix of stuff she’d said. What the _fuck_? “Who the hell are you?” she snapped, and it was like a tennis match where the audience was slowly starting to get it – whatever the hell ‘it’ was.

The helmet tilted, an ‘interesting but you haven’t proven yourself worth my time’ angle that was _way_ too familiar. “Agent Texas, or weren’t you listening?”

“Before that, before code names and shit!”

The woman’s voice dropped into a growl. “_Just_ Texas. Who the hell are _you_?”

The agents were looking nervous, Carolina bewildered and angry, Leonard confused. The only one who didn’t seem to feel anything was the black guy, who kept that expression of placid distant interest.

Well fuck all of this. She reached up slowly, removing the ski mask and goggles. “Allison. Allison Church.”

A grenade might’ve been quieter than the outburst everyone decided to have at once. It was a chorus of “what the fuck”s and sputters of outrage, Leonard flabbergasted, Carolina hissing in fury, and ‘Agent Texas’ snarling threats as she stalked forward. 

Somehow, the calm black guy found the perfect moment to speak up, his words cutting through the chatter. “That’s quite impossible,” he declared, like saying the world couldn’t be flat. “Allison Church is dead.”

Leonard flinched at that, and Carolina’s jaw lifted in a sharp, aggressive jerk. Allison gave him a tight, sharp, _angry_ grin full of teeth. “Yeah I heard that one too.”

“Hey, anyone planning on sharing with the class?” the blonde woman snapped, looking more and more irritable with the decreasing chance of brawling. Allison approved. She liked the approach – though she suspected the woman had the same punchability problem as Carolina. 

“That is _none_ of your business, Agent!” Leonard snapped, shaking off whatever emotions he had spilling around. He glanced at everyone, and it was almost cute how most of them snapped to attention.

Weird, given Leonard – and the fact that one of those people was still holding a skateboard, and another was in a medical gown while carrying a gun – but cute. 

“Agents Texas and Carolina, stay here to assist with questioning. The rest of you, make sure the ship is secure and we don’t have more visitors.” Again, cute but weird how everyone hustled out – thank god nobody actually saluted. 

Leonard waited a moment, then turned to look at Mr. Way-Too-Fucking-Calm. “‘The rest of you’ includes you, Counselor.”

Holy shit, the dude displayed emotion. Sort of. It was a tiny frown, the kind like he couldn’t tell if the car’s doors had locked or not but he didn’t want to actually try again because making the horn honk would be _rude_. Ugh, what pit of civilized society had Leonard dredged this asshole up from? “Sir–”

“You are _dismissed_, Counselor!”

Ooo. Bitchy today. The guy waited a moment, like he was trying to indicate it was _his_ call to leave. “Of course, sir.” He thankfully didn’t nod to anyone, just turned on his heel and strolled out like he had nowhere important to be.

The door closed, locked, and Allison got to a count of three before Agent Texas had her pinned up against the wall, but not in the fun way. Actually, if this was some kind of evil clone, she _really_ didn’t want to consider the fun way. Too weird, even for her. 

“You picked the wrong girl to imitate,” Agent Texas growled.

“I could say the same.” Texas had to have some kind of strength augmentation to her armor, the easy way she was holding Allison off the floor, but if there was _anything_ she was too damn familiar with lately, it was with oversized bullies trying to intimidate her by tossing her against walls.

Texas didn’t have the mandibles to pull it off. 

Before Allison could kick ass and get out of that hold, Leonard spoke. “Let her down.”

Allison rolled her shoulders a little, giving Texas a look as the woman reluctantly stepped back. “Good dog,” she muttered, loud enough for Texas to hear but not likely the others. She dodged under the expected backhand, then rolled away from the followup knee that would’ve gotten her right in the face.

The thing that bothered her was that it was _exactly_ the move she’d pull if some asshole tried that on her. 

Leonard finished snarling at Texas, who stepped back to mirror Carolina’s cold and ready pose. It didn’t help that Texas was cracking her knuckles, rolling her head to loosen her neck and get a few more intimidating pops out. 

“Seriously,” Allison snapped, “I’m done talking until she stops the cryptic bullshit. Who _is_ this?”

“You are in no position to make any demands–”

Oh for god’s sake. “Leonard, either give me information or shut up and let the creepy evil clone do the talking.”

Texas scoffed. “Like you’re one to talk. But ok, let’s dance.”

“Texas!” Leonard snapped, and Allison could _see_ the moment that decided Tex. Leonard really ought to have known better. Meanwhile, she didn’t like how Carolina stiffened at his tone, tightness around her eyes. 

Then Tex pulled the helmet, and _that_ had all of Allison’s attention. It wasn’t like looking in a mirror, unless it was some weird funhouse kind of mirror. In bad lighting, they could pass as twins, sisters in a worst case scenario. Well, except for the bright blue cyber-eyes Tex had. 

In the decent lighting, Tex was also eerily pretty, that uncanny valley which humanity had never quite managed to move their robots out of. _Or chosen not to_, Allison thought with a queasy lump in her stomach. It was like...like a Barbie version of her, minus a few of – oh, Christ, minus a few of the more recent scars. 

Which he wouldn’t have known about. 

She somehow dragged her eyes away from that creepfest and looked at her husband. “_What_ did you do?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, your looks are pretty out of date too,” Carolina snapped. Her voice sounded strained, and she’d moved back a pace or two to keep an eye on both her and Texas. Had she not _known_? 

Her mouth was on autopilot. “Yeah, it’s called cryo stasis. Great for keeping the wrinkles away. I don’t recommend it.”

Carolina gave a short, scornful shake of the head. “Why would the UNSC put you in stasis and lie about it?”

“_They_ didn’t. Far as they knew, the entire squad was dead, because POWs aren’t exactly normal, now are they. Look, you want more proof?” Anger was taking over, tired bitter rage and confusion at Barbie Texas. Allison reached for one of her small belt pouches, ignoring the twitches and guns rising. She pulled the pouch, tossing it at Leonard’s feet, the ring and dogtags inside clinking against each other. “They never got those.” The Covies hadn’t noticed the ring, and the tags were apparently considered ironically useful for tracking their prisoners. 

She wasn’t ready to talk or think about the brand on her shoulder, her old service number and information there for anyone to see. Yeah, yeah should probably have taken that psych eval more seriously.

Leonard was slowly lifting the pouch, but Carolina was looking more and more mulish. Ok. Ok, she could deal with this. “On your fifth birthday you wanted a ninja ballerina cake. Your dad is the one who thought she ought to have a red ponytail.” Now her daughter’s eyes were getting huge. Great, the whole ‘intel only I would know’ bullshit was working. “I thought it was weird, I mean you don’t want hair in the way, but _he_ insisted–” – not that Leonard was listening, instead staring down at the metal in his hands. “And for once he was right. It’s a good thing one of your presents was a ninja getup, because otherwise you probably would’ve made one yourself.”

Carolina looked like someone had smacked her with a brick. Tex was a little squinty eyed with suspicion, but quiet. Leonard – Leonard looked torn between screeching “oh HELL no” and bawling “please God I’ve never wanted anything more.”

That wasn’t comfortable one damn bit, not even for someone used to Church’s melodramatics. 

Of course the idiot had to put his foot in his mouth. “All this time and effort,” he murmured, “and the Covenant did my work for me.”

Everything got a little red tinged. “_Your_ work? Oh, so the torture and imprisonment were a good idea then?” 

“The _what_?” Under other circumstances, it would’ve been funny how Carolina and Tex blurted that out exactly the same. As it was, she was too pissed at having to spell it out. 

“The Covies were tossing prisoners in cryo stasis once they finished poking. I only got thawed a few months ago. Now what the _fuck_ did that mean, Church?”

Carolina’s expression shuttered, her body language going defensive and sullen in a way Allison remembered from way too many of her own juvvie mugshots. Whatever the fuck that was, it could not be good. 

Leonard gestured around them, some dumb vague wave that helped narrow down _nothing_. “All this was for you.” He was crying but did not seeming to notice. He looked so damn _grateful_, staring at her like she was the answer to everything. Same way he’d spent so much of their wedding day staring at her, or the day he’d proposed, or that time in the hospital, curled up next to her and holding Carolina. “To get you back.” 

That didn’t make sense. “But you didn’t know–” The math finally worked out, catching the words in her throat. No, they _hadn’t_ known. They’d thought she was dead. “...Leonard,” she said, slow and careful and trying to fight off the feeling like her skin was crawling off her bones, “back from _where_?” Why did she always have to drag this shit out of him?

Carolina glared. “He needed you,” she growled, like it was somehow Allison’s fault she’d gotten captured and presumed killed. “_We_ needed you.”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Leonard snapped, and the way he went from adoring to harsh and then back gave her whiplash. 

Also, the urge to yell at someone for talking to her kid like that wasn’t going to do anyone any favors. They could bitch each other out about that later. “_How_?” she asked, and then because she was still pissed, she nodded towards ‘Agent Texas.’ “What the hell’s Soldier Barbie got to do with it?”

Leonard raised a hand, halting Tex before she could do more than take a step forward. “Alpha?” he called, which explained fuckin’ squat. 

A projector near the front of the room fuzzed to life, creating a figure of pale blue power armor. “Hey, yeah, everyone’s freaking out about – WHOA who is this and why does she look like Tex?” The guy’s voice was painfully familiar, Leonard’s attempt back in the day to sound like less of a pretentious ass. Hadn’t flown too well with anybody in the unit, and he hadn’t been able to keep going without some kind of explosive tirade eventually, accent even thicker than usual. “Uh, hi Tex, by the way. Lookin’ good.”

Leonard must’ve seen her expression, because he kept talking. “Project Freelancer started as a way to win the war, and we needed a smart AI. Alpha was the result.”

Smart AIs were based on people, actual human brains. Didn’t take a genius to see that this Alpha was based on Leonard. 

A robotic Soldier Barbie that looked like her, sounded like her. ‘He needed you.’ ‘Bring you back.’ 

Allison tried to keep her shoulders from hunching defensively as she turned to look at Texas. “ I never signed up for anything like that.” At least, she didn’t think so. The military could throw an awful lot of dumbass paperwork at people, but she’d probably have noticed that.

The world was starting to get sharp edged in a way she really didn’t like, warning flags of an oncoming panic attack or rage. It always used to be rage, back before, and she hated the way it created hesitation now. Allison knew what to do with rage attacks. Get clear of people, controlled breathing, taking it out on a punching bag or destruction of minor shit. Blunt emotions later with venting steam, through roughhousing or horseplay that she always kept on one side of that knife-edged line. 

Leonard shook his head. “Beta was a byproduct of the process.” 

This robotic her, too pretty and too aggressive in subtly wrong ways, was a _byproduct_ of copying Leonard’s brain. (_Secondary, right there in the name._) ‘He needed you,’ needed her so badly he’d tried to recreate her, a flawed copy of desperate memories that couldn’t even _begin_ to be her, but he’d gone and created an entire massive military program to, to what, work it until he got it _right_– 

The Engineer. The Covie’s jellyfish that couldn’t keep their slimy tentacles off of tech until they’d _fixed_ it. Made it right. 

Blind fury snapped the world into that other phase, the adrenaline fueled state where she couldn’t hear her own thoughts past the pounding of blood in her ears and that tick-tick-tick of mental snapshots as her brain swapped over to vivid fight choreography. How to best kill, how to best incapacitate, knife boot punch garrote targets one two and three – 

Her fist connected with Leonard’s face hard enough to send him and his glasses flying, blood spray softening everything’s outlines to something closer to reality. Texas and Carolina had grabbed one of her arms each, but that was possibly for the best. “Get him and his highest level flunkies under lock and key _now_!” she roared, not struggling in the least. “Before I feed them their worthless little testicles!” She pointed at Alpha with a hand that shook far too much, and it wasn’t because of the knuckles she’d split on Leonard. “Then you and me are gonna go through some files, tinker toy!” 

“Ok, first off, you don’t get to tell me what to do, and second, you can’t threaten me; I don’t even _have_ balls! W-wait a minute. That didn’t come out right.”

Allison let out a bark of laughter that had no humor to it. “You think that’s gonna stop me?”

He stared back at her for a long moment, his helmet tilted to the side. “You know,” he said, voice soft with wonder, “I’m starting to think maybe you are her.”

* * *

It took way too long and way too much yelling to convince Texas and Carolina to work with her. Having Alpha help her break into the project’s records was a cakewalk in comparison, even with Carolina looming over her shoulder. 

She was trying not to think too hard about how gleeful Texas had been about removing Leonard while muttering about finding the Counselor. Then she started working her way through the files, and even just skimming, what she was finding made her sick. 

There was bullshit everywhere. What had started as reasonable research into AIs and special ops soldiers had become a mad science experiment crossed with psychological manipulation to a degree that was terrifying – the only consolation Allison had was that while Leonard had signed off on that, he hadn’t been creating that shit show. 

It wasn’t much of a consolation. 

“I, uh, I am not a fan of this,” Alpha muttered, when they got to the part about fragments and the Covie Engineer. That broke the horrified silence in the room. Allison leaned back in the chair, away from the screen, while Carolina let up her deathgrip on the chair’s back to crack her knuckles. 

Allison understood the sentiment. The way he wrote about Carolina – it was all cold, distant, and creepier for the fact that he knew her better than anyone else in the clusterfuck that was Freelancer.

‘_I know her buttons because I installed most of them.’ Jesus fuck, Leonard._ One of the reasons she’d always felt so comfortable going off to fight the good fight was because she figured worst case scenario, he’d do a good job parenting Carolina on his own. She _thought_ he’d been a good dad, back...before.

Maybe he hadn’t been. Maybe Good Dad Leonard had died along with Allison. Whatever the case, she was decades too late to do anything about it. She sighed and scrubbed her face. She’d gotten the highlight reel of Leonard’s bullshit. “I have to go talk to him.” 

Carolina snorted and gave her a look. “And do what?” she asked, bitter and frustrated. “You can’t kill him.”

“Oh I sure can. I’m not gonna, but I totally can.”

It _hurt_, the look Carolina gave her, an all-too familiar eyeroll that used to be followed by a groaning ‘Mooooom.’ That lack was...strange. “So you have a plan.” What was it about this kid, always with the statements instead of questions. 

“Yeah, something like that.” She stood, then hesitated at the funny look she was getting. “What?”

Carolina shook it off, glancing away. “You’re a lot..._calmer_ than I remembered. Or figured.”

Allison allowed herself a tight smile. “I’m working a mission right now. There’s a big difference between fucking around at home and a battlefield with live ammo and life-or-death consequences.”

That got something of a smirk. “Family life is easier?”

“Fuck no, there’s just less ordinance involved.”

Alpha fuzzed from one projector to another. “Yeah, speaking of huge explosions, I gotta ask. How messy a divorce _are_ you planning?” Alpha said, understandably snide and still furious. 

“Believe me, I considered it.” Allison paused, then stepped away from the chair. She made sure to make eye contact with both Alpha and Carolina. “But he’s not keeping the kids.”

* * *

“Leonard.”

“Allison.” Did he always used to look at her this way, like she hung the moons and stars and had the rest of the galaxy rotating around her? She thought it used to happen once in awhile, but not often – but maybe she just hadn’t been paying attention. Ugh, this all sucked. 

She sat down opposite Leonard, across what felt far too much like an interrogation room table. “Well, you wanted me back, cockbite. Maybe you should’ve considered what I’d do once I got here.” 

He kept quiet, just looking at her like she’d kicked his favorite puppy, then punted the rest of the litter right at his head. It was so fucking hard to reconcile this with the man who casually made notes about how he was planning to shatter his AI’s mind – an AI based on _himself_ – and that was just the tip of the atrocity iceberg. 

_You sad fucker. You went thoroughly around the bend, didn’t you_. That wasn’t her fault. She had to remember that.

She hoped someday she believed it. 

“Do you even realize you’ve screwed up? What you did wrong?”

Christ, he puffed up, all self important and self righteous and full of shit. “I did what was _necessary_–”

“You violated basic _ethics_, and you used me as your fucking _excuse_, and _you have been casually abusing those around you, INCLUDING – AND ESPECIALLY – OUR DAUGHTER!_” The screaming left her throat raw, fury pinging at the back of her brain to _act_, to lash out, to solve this the most direct way with lots of bloodshed. 

Dammit, why did that have to solve nothing! She hated him right then, with the cold, long burning fury she didn’t have for anything else but the Covenant. That desire to purposefully and directly break every last single bone in the body then laugh while slitting a throat – but that didn’t change that unlike the Covenant, she still...somehow...felt otherwise. 

There was a lot of good, packed in too few years. Meeting in Basic, falling in love, squabbling like brats because they both were the type to pull pigtails rather than admit to actual feelings. The day he bungled the world’s worst planned proposal, the insanely overblown wedding, every time she woke up with a Leonard octopus wrapped around her, _everything_ with Carolina. 

Somehow she wanted to hate him even more for all that affection still swimming around. 

It crawled under her skin _so badly_ that she couldn’t stop. 

“You need. To go. To jail,” she finally managed, somehow keeping to a reasonable volume. 

Bastard didn’t protest, instead he looked at her. All indignant, still too damn self righteous. “Jail. For those ridiculous allegations, I would’ve presumed you’d want me dead.”

Her gaze lifted from the table, and she showed her teeth. “Do you realize what happened to me, Leonard? Do you understand? The Covenant _caught_ me. Stuck me and a bunch of other idiots in a tiny cell.” Oooh, good, he was starting to get it. Her rictus spread, showing more teeth. “Spent weeks, months for all I know, poking us, trying to get intel, and making it the literal worst time of my life, and I endured vacations with your mother _and_ your grandmother in the goddamn _A__lps_ with a broken leg. Maybe the government will decide you get the easy way out, but I’m a goddamned war hero, if I ever get off cryptid status, _and I will do everything in my power to make sure you spend the rest of your miserable existence in a tiny little cage_. I know what that’s like, Church, and you deserve every last minute of it.”

She leaned forward, keeping her hands flat on the table rather than trying to rip him apart. “If you have even an ounce of affection for me, if you _care_ the way you claim, then you will cooperate with the nice tribunal.” Aww, that hurt his feeeelings. Good. Before he could say something obnoxious and break her fragile self control, Allison swapped over to mock cheerful. 

“And hey, maybe if you’re really lucky, someday almost everyone will forget that fact, and you might be able to get out.” She leaned in for a stage whisper. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath. In the meantime, I will cask of Amontiotto your ass if I have to, but if you have _any_ emotions for me, then you. Are going. To _jail_. Got it?”

* * *

It took what felt like hours, maybe days – though who the fuck knew how long it had actually been – but he got it. It was such a _relief_ to close the door behind her and slump against the wall. Alpha would take care of the paperwork with Carolina – if anyone would make sure all the ugly, relevant shit was in there, it’d be those two – and Leonard would be taking down the Counselor and anyone else relevant in the clusterfuck. 

God, she felt hollow. 

“You ok?” a voice called out, and Allison’s head jerked up. Texas was back in full armor – not a surprise, all things considered. 

The words took their time percolating through. “Not really,” she admitted, because if you couldn’t be honest with the knock-off clone version of yourself, then who was there?

Tex nodded, ambling over to knock shoulders with her before leaning against the wall at her side. It made for a weird, but companionable silence for awhile.

“Any plans once the kangaroo court is over?” Tex asked.

She snorted. “Are you kidding? Everything’s a holding pattern right now. I figure everything goes to either me or Carolina, and if it’s me, then I can make sure it gets distributed to people here. They deserved better.”

Tex hummed something noncommittal. “Or,” she finally said. “You could keep the money.”

The fuck? Allison eyed her, but robot in power armor. Not too many cues. “I’ve already got a decent severance package from the army, and a nice chunk of hush money. What would I do with all that, too?”

Tex glanced over, and Allison was certain the AI was smirking at her. “You know, mercenary companies make some nice bank nowadays. Of course, it’d need an experienced leader, and it’s not like anyone with this project would be trusted enough to take charge. An outsider, though, with help from folks within the program...that could be interesting.”

She snickered, because it was just the sort of pitch she would make, if the notion had ever crossed her mind. Tex would take some getting used to, if this went down. Allison crossed her arms, considering. The notion did have merit. There was also a nice parity to it.

Also wasn’t like she had anything else planned, though she did have a whole bunch of family she wanted to hang around with now.

Well. Leonard might not have taken care of his people, but she was _definitely_ not her husband. She could do something with this. Allison glanced back at the closed door, then shoved away from the wall. _Goodbye, Leonard_. Might’ve been more satisfying to say to his face, but at the end? Fuck it. Wasn’t for him, anyways. 

“Tell me more,” she asked, and she could hear the wider smile in Tex’s voice as they walked away. 

* * *

**Epilogue  
Years later**

Allison planted her hands on her hips, glaring around the little box canyon they’d crashed into. “You bring us to all the best places.”

Alpha projected himself to sit on her shoulder. “Hey, don’t bitch at me, _you’re_ the boss, and you wouldn’t let me drive!”

“Then I’d have to sort out if it’s Niner’s turn or yours, and you both pout too much. Also, you always get lost.”

“Hey, fuck you too, at least _I’m_ willing to pull over and ask directions, _Allison_.”

She nodded, having to give him that. “So what’s the situation, people?” she asked, projecting now.

“Still crashed, nobody but us and those dumbfuck soldiers that were getting the first class treatment. You’d think they saved the universe or something,” South bitched, dragging another crate of ammo towards the cave they’d picked at their new base.

York turned to give her a look. “What, the ones with Wash’s new boyfriend–”

“I will kill you and _no one will find the body_,” Wash snapped back, his voice going up only an octave. So yes, the ones with the scrawny kid with an attitude that Washington had been spending a lot of time with the whole damn trip. She didn’t know if Wash had been flirting or just taking in more strays; “Wind Wash up and see how shrill he gets” was everyone’s secondary hobby.

Also those had been the only troops onboard to be getting a ‘first class treatment’ as compared to getting the troop transport bullshit, like them (and they weren’t even regular military! Unfair). Pity those grunts that had been losing all the card games to her people hadn’t made it, though. North had done what he could, but the shield unit could only expand so far, and it wasn’t like they’d been in good shape either, rattling around like rocks in a can. 

Connie hopped up onto the remains of a tree the ship had taken down with them. “You do realize those are certified heroes, right? They kinda did save the universe.”

York tackled peacekeeping via setting up a target on himself in that idiot way he did. “No kidding. What’d they do?”

“Wash’s boy toy–”

“_Connie he is not!_”

“– is _Lavernius Tucker_.”

That caught South’s attention. She whipped around, looking both reluctantly impressed and grossed out. “The alien fucker?”

Wash made high pitched kettle noises, which didn’t help his case any.

The name was ringing some bells, but Allison had minions for intel on the broader scope so she didn’t _have_ to memorize every god damned thing to cross the radar. “What’s that when it’s not a dumb joke?”

Tex decloaked to stroll up beside her. “No joke. He’s that grunt who found some energy sword, managed to have a Sangheili baby, and is a primary ambassador with them. His kid’s got a guaranteed spot for the same when he’s older. They’re a significant reason the war ended as thoroughly as it did.”

Allison went still, her skin crawling. Oh god, _that_ asshole. That would explain why she’d forgotten his name as soon as possible. “He fucked an Elite? You know what, no one answer that. Congratulations Wash, you’re on point for dealing with them.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled, that weird mix of actual gratitude meeting ‘why me?’ 

Because she did _not_ want to deal with someone who had one way or another gotten _that_ close to a Covie. Urgh. 

Carolina moved in close enough to brush shoulders. “You never saw that therapist, did you,” she said, not asking. She kept it quiet enough for no one else but Tex to hear, and everyone turned back to what they were doing to give them a pretext of privacy. Well, excepting Maine who was on patrol and ignoring all the usual bullshit; and North and Florida, who were in the sniper nests, but they always pretended they couldn’t lip read and usually kept quiet about anything they might spot.

“I was _busy–_”

“You _will_ see one, ASAP. War’s been over for awhile now, and you need to deal with that shit.” Allison and Carolina had a glaring contest, which Tex interrupted. 

“Oh she will. If I find a halfway competent shrink around here I’m making sure of it.” Allison whipped around, staring in affronted betrayal. Tex just gave her a look right back. “You think you can take me?”

Allison flipped her off. “Bitch.” The problem always was that no, she couldn’t – Tex was still an AI in a robotic body, and while Allison was still fighting trim, she couldn’t bench press tanks. 

“Cockbite,” Tex tossed back, lazy and unaffected. 

“Soo,” York drawled, “where do you think we are?”

Alpha cleared his throat, finally willing to draw attention to himself again. “I didn’t have much time to check the maps and trackers – thanks, Boss – but most likely place is a little planet called Chorus.”

Everyone looked at him, and after a bit he shrugged. “What?”

“Intel, lightbulb!” Niner snapped, tugging the crate South had stopped pushing. “We got a name, great. What else?”

“Well, there’s no internet out here, this place didn’t show up on the news before we left for fuckin’ _space_, and there is _no_ radio chatter anywhere I can pick up. So we’re in a technological hell hole, in a box canyon, both of them in the middle of nowhere. You want that written up for the files?”

Niner made a rude gesture, South cracked a quiet comment that made her cackle, and Alpha made gestures back.

People probably had at least some of the worry worked out of their systems. Allison stretched, cracking her neck a little. “Solid base camp, useful allies, and supplies to keep us going for...?”

“Months,” Wyoming declared in satisfaction, dusting his hands off as he strolled out of the base. “Triplets say the troopers should survive, by the way, though there was complaining.”

“Name five things you hate about our new friends,” Wash muttered softly enough she could pretend not to hear it, or the snorts of amusement near him. 

“Great. I don’t care what kind of a primitive mudball this is, people. We’re safe enough, we got folks to look out for, and _something_ took down our ride, which means people of some kind. And people always want to hire good freelance mercenaries to fuck up someone else’s shit. So let’s get this place secure, then find out who’s willing to pay us to kick some ass.”


End file.
